Under the starlit sky
by sunofthemoon
Summary: Neverland au. Secrets and bitter truths don't always spill out in the echo caves. Sometimes all it takes is the presence of someone with the same priorities as you, and a sky full of stars. Inspired by alysseashell's "stargazing" art piece on twitter.


**A/N:** This is based off an artwork by alysseashell on twitter titled stargazing. You can find it under this url from twitter at : alysseashell/status/1049289968475156480)

This is based in Neverland, and mostly canon compliant from the echo caves until they trap the shadow. The details about Neverland are hazy for me, so I don't concentrate too much on that. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to check out the artwork and give it some love.

* * *

All hope seems lost, the lot of them quiet as they contemplate the trap, the severe way in which they've met failure today.

Pan had been behind them the entire time, moving and dancing around their emotions until they had broken down hard enough that Emma isn't sure there's a way to piece them back together. Snow and David huddle in the corner, whispering quietly about an injury that will kill her father if he attempts to leave Neverland, and about another child that Snow will never have if they stay forever young in this godforsaken place. Emma twists her fingers within each other anxiously, gaze set on the flickering flames of the fire as she tries not to feel the sting of rejection in the rough words her mother had uttered in the echo caves. Emma is wonderful, but she's all grown up.

"Love?" Hook is ever present, one arm extended toward her with a flask of rum in his fingers. Usually, before his admission of being in love with her, Emma would have taken a swing of the horribly strong alcohol and leaned against him like they were old friends—they aren't friends now, and she's hurting too much to consider the possibility of more.

Shaking her head, Emma pushes the flask back to him, his eyes tracking over her face before he brings the flask to his own lips, gaze drawn to Neal who watches them sulkily. Emma has always been good at running; ghosting that boy who gave her his number but wanted too much from her, leaving so quietly in the dead of the night after a one-night stand that the person questions if it even happened in the first place, giving her son away because she didn't want to be a mother.

Emma is good at running, so that's what she does when she stands up abruptly, stomping off into the woods despite the call of her name.

Neverland has been an emotional torture device, admissions of things they would rather leave buried coming up to swallow them whole—and through it, Emma has to deal with the fact that she might not get to see Henry again. The last year with him, albeit a stolen year from Regina, had been bliss; a look into the life she would have had had she just kept him.

Leaves crunch against her boots as she barrels through branches and trees, chest heaving as she tries to calm herself down. She had been a self declared leader who had chosen today to go after Neal, forsaking her son again in the face of a man-child who had betrayed her in their youth. Regina was right, she thinks too much with her heart to be healthy, a decision that makes her weak now.

A loose branch has her falling forward on her hands and knees, sand beneath her fingers as she attempts to stand up again. Shaking with the exertion of such a simple act, the day having taking its toll on her, Emma relents, head bent down as she fights back tears instead. "I'm sorry," she breathes. "I'm sorry, Henry," she says again, this time louder, the sand beneath her hands drawing up into her fist, no thought for her fragile state as it escapes through the gaps of her fingers, running away like she does.

"Did he die?!" comes the concerned voice of someone familiar, the only person stupid enough to wear heeled boots in the middle of a jungle.

Picking her head up, Emma blinks through her tears, the worried face of Regina swimming in front of her eyes. "Henry?!" Emma squawks.

"I know Henry is alive," Regina says evenly, bending down to Emma's eye level, "I'm talking about your… person, the idiot you went to rescue instead of ou—my son."

The subtle rejection of her, the change from our son to my son stings just as bad as Snow's confession of wanting another child. Emma stands up to her full height, gaze hardening as she's learned to do over the years. "He's alive," Emma says sharply, brushing the sand from her hands on her jeans, "he was in the echo caves." She doesn't need to say more, not with the way Regina's eyebrows raise as if she's glad to have missed the opportunity herself. "Your rescue mission didn't go anywhere, did it?" Emma goads, because Regina is nothing if not predicable.

"Far more successful than you pulling an over aged child out from a cage," she snaps, hiking her satchel higher up over her shoulder, the blue blazer she wears sticking to her skin. "Unlike you, Miss Swan, I value my son higher than some man who has betrayal in his blood."

This is where she should punch Regina, where Maybe, Madame Mayor, you should take a long hard look in the mirror and wonder why everyone always leaves you—only they're not fighting over Graham, they're fighting for their son, and Emma's fist loosens at her side. "I saved Henry's father," she protests weakly.

Regina's laugh is mocking, cutting through the air with precision that slices through Emma's resolve. "Father? Please, genetics mean nothing, not when I have been there for ten years doing everything the both of you were too—"

"Don't." The word is quiet, but Emma's stormy expression makes Regina pause. She's tortured more than she cares to admit, weighed down with too many titles and nothing to show for it. "We came here to find Henry, not to fight over him." Exhausted to the bone, Emma rubs her hands down her face and winces at the scratching feel of sand along her cheek.

"Exactly, we came to find Henry, not to search for love interests in the jungle like this is a remake of Tarzan."

Emma almost wants to ask if Regina knows Tarzan, but refrains from making a bad situation worse. "Yeah? Then what have you been up to?" It's meant to sound accusatory, but Regina actually stands taller at that, a barely concerned gaze sweeping across Emma's features as she rights herself again, weakness behind a wall of attitude.

"I have a plan," she says smugly, just a tinge of exhausted lingering at the edges of her speech, "one that doesn't need a saviour."

"He's my son—"

Regina snarls. "No, he's not!" Her hands are fisted at her sides, the strap of her satchel falling off her shoulder to hang onto her elbow instead. They're both at their bitter ends of exhausted, emotions stretched too thin as they stare each other down. "At this point, the only thing you are is arm candy to a pirate, and some prize to a thief. The moment you set your priorities straight, is the moment you get to be Henry's mother."

Emma doesn't even have the strength to argue, her boots sinking into sand as she takes a step back. "I didn't ask for this," she confesses, watching Regina as she pulls the satchel back over her shoulder, her posture rigid and gaze unwavering. "Henry was supposed to be safe, he was supposed to be a kid with an obsession with fairy tales. You were… you were just supposed to be a hardass mayor who was too strict with him, and I was supposed to be the friend he never had until…"

"Until you stole him?" Regina takes a step forward, eyes shining with the knowledge of Emma's one time stunt of almost stealing Henry away. "Until you realised that you were ready to be a mother and wanted your son back?" She shakes her head, a scoff on her lips. "You only wanted Henry because of what I made him. Had been raised by someone lesser, my son would not be as well mannered, or smart, or wanting for nothing."

Emma cuts in with an insensitive, "he wanted me," and Regina's nostrils flare angrily.

The echo caves have nothing on this, not when she spills truths to Regina just to spite her, each target leaving behind a wound that becomes deeper the longer they search for Henry in Pan's domain. In all of this however, Emma doesn't consider going back to camp, not when Regina's prickly company is far better than being in the middle of a pissing contest between Neal and Hook.

"And look where that got us," Regina breathes, her soft words like needles down Emma's back.

Taking a step forward, Emma bares her teeth. "I wasn't the one who cast a curse in the first place!"

Regina rises to the bait, like she always does, her lips hovering too close and her eyes just a shade darker than usual. "If your mother had only kept her mouth shut when I asked her to, none of us would be where we are!"

"Why do I have to suffer because of her?! Why does Henry have to suffer because of another child's mistake? You're the cause of all of this and you know it." Emma doesn't spare Regina a second glance, her boots stomping into fine sand as she makes her way back to camp, angrier than when she left, but relieved all the same.

:::

Neal comes up with the brilliant plan to trap Pan's shadow. The coconut sieve is actually a clever trap, and Emma is almost convinced of this plan even if Hook and Neal continue to bicker; her parents are off replenishing their supplies and making the most of whatever time they might have left together.

The flint gets lost just as Pan's shadow looms overhead, Hook and Neal helpless now as they stare at her with the coconut in her hand, anger rising up within her over everything. She thinks of Snow who had to tell a secret, who would rather have another child than be a mother to her. She thinks of Hook and Neal, of how selfish they are to pursue romance when her son is trapped with a monster; of Hook and his kisses, and Neal and his useless apologies. She thinks lastly of Regina, of all the ways that she's right, of all the ways that she's wrong—the anger within her is replaced by sorrow, of longing and a deep ache that makes the flame in the coconut burst to life, Pan's shadow sucked within it.

"How did you manage to do that?" Neal asks lazily from where he's positioned on the floor.

"Regina," Emma answers honestly, handing the coconut to Neal who fumbles with it, looking at her with wide eyes. "I need to do something." It's as much an explanation as either of them are going to get, Emma making her way through the overgrowth in the same direction as the last time, signs of her wreckage left behind on the branches and leaves an indicator enough as to the path she's supposed to follow.

The hard compact earth gives way to sand, Emma ambling along until she can take in the full beauty of the place. There's a large lake that curves around a few hills, the water dark and ominous, but still beautifully lit up by the reflection of the stars above. Had she been a woman without a mission, she might've paused to admire them a little more.

A silent figure joins her at the edge of the lake, dark hair shining under the dim light as Regina smiles sadistically to herself. "Come for round two?" she asks.

Emma swallows, folding her arms across her torso to mirror Regina's stance, their faces reflecting in the water before them. "We trapped Pan's shadow," she tells Regina, "I used magic... just like you taught me." She doesn't know what she wants to achieve with this, but a day with everyone else has Emma appreciate Regina's presence, the calmness of her that rages war with everything that stands in the way of her mission. Regina is right— Emma doesn't know what her priorities are anymore.

"Rumple and I procured Pandora's Box from his shop. We plan on trapping Pan within it."

Turning to Regina, Emma allows her hands to fall to her sides. "How did you cross realms?"

Regina rolls her eyes like Emma is an idiot and says, "mermaids," like Emma is supposed to somehow know. "Well then, Saviour, I suppose we're on the same team again."

They were never really a team, more like a band of mismatched individuals with the hope of a different outcome from this rescue mission. Snow and David used it as an opportunity to get to know their daughter better, Hook did it out of both guilt and adoration toward Emma, Rumple… well, his motivations are always sketchy, but only Emma and Regina have the same goal.

"You should come back to camp, then," Emma says, shrugging her shoulders as if it took nothing for her to ask Regina to join them again. "Tomorrow we can ransom the shadow for Henry, and then you can trap Pan."

Regina shakes her head, staring up at the sky this time. "I'm better off here than at the heroes' camp."

Frowning Emma reaches out for Regina's arm, barely brushing her fingertips along the sleeve of her blazer. "Henry would say you're a hero. You haven't blazed your way through Neverland, or killed any innocent children—hell, you're tolerating Snow because of him. You're a Mom," she says softly, "that makes you a hero."

Turning her gaze toward Emma, hesitant in its delivery, Regina reaches out to curl her fingers over Emma's hand that's still resting on the sleeve of her blazer. The harsh words from the night before still leave a sting, but Regina's shaky exhale sounds more like forgiveness than Emma has ever afforded herself in a lifetime. "What did you have to do?" Regina asks after a moment of silence, "to get Neal," she clarifies.

The thought of the echo caves has Emma stiffen, hand moving out from under Regina's to be tucked into the back pocket of her jeans instead. "He was trapped in a cave. We each had to tell a secret for the path to appear."

"I bet your mother had no difficulties with that."

The smile doesn't quiet make it's way onto Emma's face, but a frown does. "What would you have said, I mean—if you were with us?"

"To be clear, I was never with any of you. Saving that boy was not on my to-do list for this trip." Regina's arms wind tighter around herself, the purse of her lips angry as she looks out to the water again, the purple of the sky beautiful despite the odd colour.

Shifting from foot to foot, sand kicked up with the action, Emma sighs loudly. She doesn't know why she craves Regina's presence, only that she doesn't feel this energised with anyone else—and that might be due to Neverland or magic, but Emma can't lie to herself about the jolt of electricity every time Madame Mayor had forgotten about personal space and hissed threats in her face. "I admitted to hoping Neal was dead," she confesses, bracing herself on her palms as she shifts to sit down, legs stretched out in front of her.

Regina looks down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She wants to ask why, the question is practically written across her forehead, but Emma waits until she voices it out loud. "I thought you loved him," she says instead, and that throws Emma for a loop.

Emma justifies that with a stuttered, "I—I was young, I guess. He was my first love, you never really… I mean, it sticks, right?"

Eying her cryptically, Regina gives up her high ground and takes a seat beside her, her posture still perfect and her arms wrapped around her knees as she keeps her eyes on the stars above them. "Why did you rescue him, Emma?" she asks, stunning Emma once again as her name is uttered with such exhaustion.

"I kept Henry from him," Emma says eventually, "I lied about who his father really was and he… he treated me like—"

"Like me?" Regina guesses, turning to her with a small smile that's sadder than anything.

The conversation tapers off after that, Emma chewing on her bottom lip as she turns her attention to the stars. There's no doubt that Regina has always been the villain in Henry's storybook, and no matter the presence of other villains in their camp, they haven't directly impacted their lives, not in the way Regina has, not in the way she has put herself forward as a formidable foe and played into the hands of those who worked in the shadows. There's hope, however, that after all of this, when they bring Henry home and have a chance to be a family again, that everything will just go back to normal.

Regina says out of the blue, "I adopted Henry because I wanted someone to love me." At Emma's questioning gaze, Regina adds, "if I was in the echo caves, that would have been my secret."

It's an obscure secret, something that isn't exactly the worst thing that Emma can imagine coming out of the Evil Queen's mouth, but it does show some degree of weakness, she supposes, a crack in the armour of a villain. Is that why Regina had been purposefully removed from the equation? Emma would have refocused her attentions on Henry if she had known this before. "He does," she finds herself saying, "love you, I mean."

"Doubtful," Regina says through a demeaning chuckle. "I held onto him so tightly that he fell into the lap of someone else."

"Maybe…" she licks her lips, staggering under the weight of Regina's expectant gaze. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she says instead, shrugging the best she can as her gaze averts to the sky above them. "Henry was supposed to grow up in Storybrooke, his fairy tale obsession grown out of, and I thought, you know, maybe we wouldn't have to fight all the time, that we'd eventually be co-parents who could share a look whenever Henry would get too out of hand, or I'd have to stop you from strangling the teacher at PTA meetings, or we'd argue over who would get to take Henry driving that afternoon— but you're a horrible backseat driver and I'm too reckless when it comes to letting him take control." If she chokes up, then she blames it on the sand that didn't fly into her eyes.

When Emma finally looks over at Regina, she's leaning back on her palms, maroon shirt slipping open with one too many buttons undone, the lace of her brassier visible even in the dark. "You wanted to share Henry?" she asks, disbelief clear in the way she scoffs.

"Our son, right?" and the statement that's posed as a question is so hopeful, that Emma's heart clenches just a little bit when Regina turns her attention back to the stars.

Nodding at the sky, Regina asks, "beautiful, aren't they?" Emma nods silently, looking up with reluctance. "I thought Henry would be safe with me, that I didn't need anyone or anything. I had my curse, I had my son, and I had the hollow victory of my revenge." She waves her hand through the air, pointing at the stars as if they are independent spectators of the conversation between Evil Queen and Saviour. "Look at them. One of them would still be beautiful against the sky, but a whole cluster of them, a galaxy of them is something… magnificent. It makes you look up, gives you hope, has you look at them in wonder—I want our son to be more than just one star in the sky, I want him to be happy, I want him to be majestic."

"What about you?"

The question has Regina turning back to Emma, her heart laid out bare, but the saviour still searching through the wreckage for more. "I want my son back," she answers easily, avoiding Emma's searching gaze that sweeps across her face, their hands too close in the sand and the night too dark for either of them to be civil. "And what do you want, Miss Swan?" she asks, redirecting the conversation with too much ease.

Emma shrugs, gaze never leaving Regina's as she looks at her in awe. For all the stories about her being an Evil Queen, she's more of a mother than Emma has ever had the pleasure of knowing in her entire lifetime. She's determined to find Henry, determined to make him the best possible version of himself, and there's even the reluctant, but tolerated presence of the Charmings in his life if it means making Henry happy. Emma can't say the same for her parents who are already looking to replace her. "I want the same thing," she says, leaning in a little toward Regina, "I just… I've always wanted a family, I didn't know I would be stealing yours to have it is all."

"You have Snow and David," Regina says, her words smooth enough that Emma doesn't wince at them. "You have a pirate who pines for you, and an ex-lover who seems to want to do right by you. You have everyone, even Henry."

The person she wants the most despises her, barely tolerates her at best, and Emma chokes on her words before she can voice it. Leaning back, unbothered about sand getting into her hair, Emma stares up at the brilliant purple sky, stars littered across it. Beside her, a blue blazer is laid down, Regina joining her with only the faintest hint of amusement. She's baffled by Regina staying by her side, by the honest conversation that seems to flow despite bitter truths hurting them both. "You have me," Emma whispers, the stars twinkling at her, "even if it doesn't seem like it, I do believe in you."

When she turns to look at Regina, she doesn't realise just how close they are, how brown Regina's eyes are, or how deep the scar above her upper lip is. The blazer that's bunched up by Regina's head is spread out, Emma wordlessly picking her head up so that they can share the garment. "One moment," Regina whispers, "I'd ask for one moment of bliss. Searching for Henry, playing Pan's games…"

Emma says, "I get it," her whisper skirting along Regina's lips as they unconsciously shift closer. She doesn't know who makes the first move, but it's an awkward chaste kiss that has her blinking rapidly, a dissatisfied hum from her lips making them move back with pink cheeks.

"When you said family…"

When she said family, she might've been referring to everything unsaid in Regina's sentence. "Again," Emma demands, Regina's eyes widening before they begin to shutter off behind a wall of emotional protection. Fingertips lightly trace down an olive cheek, drawing Regina back to her. "Again," Emma repeats, turning on her side until their noses brush, Regina's gaze drawn once again to Emma's lips.

This time Emma presses her lips to Regina's, the touch soft and barely there. They stare at each other, eyes wide open until Regina kisses back, pressing more firmly into the kiss that causes them both to slip their eyes closed.

For all the nights imagining what it would be like to kiss Regina Mills, Emma would have never imagined it to be this soft, to have a hand sliding through her hair, lips moving gently over own like she's something to be savoured. She doesn't know how long they kiss for, not until she breaks away for air and the only evidence is Regina's mused lipstick and her slightly swollen lips. Emma isn't sure she's ever kissed someone with such lazy knowing, like the satisfied smile that creeps up onto Regina's mouth is supposed to be there, and the stars twinkling above them isn't as meaningful as Henry himself.

"Ours," Emma whispers once she's caught her breath, Regina's hand still resting on her neck, her thumb stroking along her jaw. Our son, our moment, our family.

"Ours," Regina agrees, her gaze fixed solely on Emma, the stars blinking in the reflection from her eyes. "We're going to get our son tomorrow, and then we're going to go home."

Home, a concept that has Emma close her eyes in longing, Regina's fingertips skimming across her lips and chin. "I believe you," Emma breathes, curling into Regina's front as they both wait for tomorrow under the starlit sky.


End file.
